the stars on your ceiling will shine for us
by themarchgirl
Summary: because we tend to make each other blush. carly&freddie drabble collection.
1. Art

"Spencer, why do you have to show me this now?"

"Because I just finished it and I want you to see it! Come on!" Spencer dragged Carly into his room and pointed at the sculpture positioned in the centre.

It was her and Freddie, hugging. The sculpture was not life size, but you could clearly see that it was them.

Carly walked over to it and patted the sculpted-Freddie's head. "Thanks, Spencer."

There was a knock at the door and, with a smile, Carly ran to let Freddie in.


	2. Bag

Carly stared into the shop through the window wistfully. She wanted that bag so badly.

"Carly, you can have it when you can pay for it yourself." Spencer shook his head and tugged Carly away.

The next week, on Carly's birthday, Freddie bashfully handed her a package. There was a squeal as she unwrapped it.

"Oh, Freddie, thank you! You're so amazing!"

Freddie was suddenly being hugged very tightly. He happily put his arms around her too, a stupid grin creeping onto his face.


	3. Cold

The door flew open, bringing an extremely cold Freddie and gust of wind with it. Carly found herself suddenly pulled up into someone's freezing embrace just as the door slammed shut.

"Freddie?"

"It's ...so...c-cold," Freddie muttered, pressing his nose into her neck and shoving his hands up her shirt, palming her stomach. "And you're so _warm_."

Carly giggled and pushed his coat off his broad shoulders. "You're such a dork."

His response was to kiss her on the nose and then bury his ear in her collarbone. The shock of his cold skin made her squeak and jump, but she didn't mind.

She ran her fingers through his hair and then rubbed his arms, trying to get friction to heat him up. Freddie groaned at the heat and then hugged her properly. Her warm frame pressed against him stopped his shivering and the chattering of his teeth.

"Freddie?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think there might be a better way to warm you up."

Freddie grinned and picked her up, carrying her into blissful heat.


	4. Dark

"Carly?"

"Freddie?"

"Aw, crap, the power's gone."

"Hang on a sec," Carly dug her phone out of her pocket and turned it on. The light blossomed onto her face and Freddie moved closer so they could see each other. "There. Now we can look for a torch or something."

"I think I saw one in the drawers in the island once." Freddie said.

"OK. Are you going to be OK over here by yourself while I get it?" Carly asked with a smirk.

Freddie wrapped his arms around her and pouted. "No."

Carly squeezed him gently. "Well, I think my phone has enough light."

Freddie tightened his arms and held her there for as long as he could.


	5. Ever

Freddie pulled a laughing Carly by the hand, grinning himself. They were taking a walk by the river in the Yakima countryside, and seeing as Freddie had just been formally introduced as Carly's boyfriend they were happy to get some time to themselves.

"Wow," Freddie breathed, coming to a stop and taking in the glorious view from the hill. Carly squeezed his hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I remember when I was small and my dad dropped me and Spencer here for a week or two when he had to go back to the navy," Carly said. "And I always used to come out here with a picnic and pretend I was a princess on a hill, waiting for a prince to come and rescue me."

She sighed and lowered herself into a cross-legged sitting position. Freddie imitated her and put his arms around her, resting his head on hers.

"Will you let me rescue you?" Freddie asked softly.

"Only if I can rescue you, too," she replied at the same volume, shifting so that she was facing him.

A slow smile spread across his complexion, and he bent to kiss her.

Somewhere in the next few seconds they both knew that this, this thing they had, was for ever.


	6. Fear

Freddie was woken by a loud thunderclap and a squeak somewhere near his ear.

"Carly?"

She gazed up at him with huge, frightened eyes and jumped even further into his arms as a flash of lightning erupted behind the blue curtains.

"Hey, hey, it's just a thunderstorm," he soothed, his hand rubbing circles over her shoulder and back. "You're safe, I promise."

He pressed his mouth to her dark hair, feeling her muscles loosen a bit. He cradled her gently, grimacing at her tiny whimpers whenever a crack sounded from the heavens.

"Shh, I've got you. I've got you," he murmured. "I won't let it hurt you."

A sigh escaped her. Her grip on his t-shirt lessened and her breathing evened. He looked at her almost-sleeping face, smiling at her peaceful expression.


	7. Grief

"Freddie?"

He looked up and saw Carly peeking round the door, her eyes puffy and red. He stood immediately and tugged her past the door.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting down next to her on his bed and slipping an arm over her shoulders. Her head dropped into her hands and she began to cry.

"My dad was in a submarine explosion," she explained. "All the crew died."

Freddie pulled her into a hug. Carly squeezed his torso tightly and sobbed into his shoulder.

He remembered losing his own dad, and the awful feeling of emptiness in his chest. He lifted her onto his lap and stroked her hair as she cried and cried.

He didn't say anything.


	8. Haunted

His kisses linger on her mouth like gum after you blow a bubble and it goes kind of wrong.

She accepts his reasoning, sees why they can't be together at this moment in time, but she already misses his hand on her waist and his smile that was just for her.

At night she dreams about him and relives everything the past few days had to offer. She wakes up with tears on her face and a pain in her chest that was never there before.

_He saved your life; you're not in love with him. This will pass_.

But when she accidentally sits too close to him on the bus and their noses bump and he tastes like the chocolate mousse they had for dessert at lunch, she knows the ghost of what they briefly (_so briefly_) had will stay with her for a long time.


	9. Incident

He called it the Incident.

The Incident involved him, his brunette best friend, chocolate cake and other intimate details that may or may not have been something to do with lip-to-lip contact.

She looked so pretty in the low light and he just had to get that stain of chocolate sauce off her mouth. It wasn't his fault. She kissed back.

It wasn't his fault that he couldn't accept that he was still hopelessly in love with her.

He sent her an email that read, "I'm sorry," but he never, ever thought about regretting it.


	10. Jumbled

She's failing Math, and Science, and Social Studies.

Her dad just went missing.

Spencer won't come out of his room.

Sam stops by for food and iCarly and occasionally some friendly words of comfort.

Freddie never leaves.

One day she comes home and cries into his chest for an hour because she left her favourite pen in her locker.

Everything in her mind is in turmoil, except for one thing that remains constant and strong.

She loves him. And he loves her.

And they're going to make this work.


	11. Klutz

I would like to thank _shadicoy/StriderHiryu _for this word prompt!

* * *

She made him clumsy.

When he looked up and saw her every day, something would slip from his grasp and tumble onto the floor, leaving him blushing and crouching down to get it.

When she was in her pyjamas and bleary-eyed she was so beautiful he'd started to trip over his words and thin air. She never laughed, only helped him up with her tiny hand on his shoulder and an amused, puzzled face.

She was going to kill him. One day he'd be near a cliff and she'd smile at him or look at him and he'd topple over the edge.

One evening she hugged him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. He swallowed, hard.

"Freddie?" she breathed against his skin.

"Mm-hm?"

"Why are you so clumsy?"

"Because – because you make me clumsy," he explained, flushing. She giggled and poked him.

"I don't mean to," she whispered.

He grinned as she pulled back to stare at him, and then kiss him.


	12. Lies

The young man walks up to the tall, dark building, hands stuffed in his pockets and a hood pulled over his head. Opening the glass doors, he sneaks past the snoring night-guard and hurries up the stairs.

On his way up he wonders what his excuse will be tonight – working late? No, tonight his mom called and wanted him to come over for late dinner. That is what he will tell his wife when she looks up at him from her bed, her blonde curls astray from her usual high ponytail.

Reaching the eighth floor, he shoves his hood back and begins to peel off his coat. The door flies open and he's being pulled inside by a pair of eager hands.

"You're early," she breathes in his ear, their clothes slipping from their bodies.

"More time with you," he whispers, finally claiming her mouth with his own.

They forget the lies they've had to tell as they slide under each other's skin.


	13. Millions

Carly pops a few of the chewy candies into her mouth, frowning as she munches through them. Freddie grins.

"I think one at a time would be easier," he says, plucking one from her palm. She scowls at him and swallows thickly.

"Yeah, but it's not fun if you do that," she retorts. "It feels like toffee and they all stick to your teeth."

He shakes his head and holds his hand out for more. Instead, she slips her hand into his and moves closer.

"It also means," she whispers, flushing pink and biting her lip for a moment. "That you taste like sugar."

He stares at her until he blinks and pulls her to him for a kiss.


	14. Need

Her fingertips trail down his bare chest, leaving fire in their wake. He groans softly, finding her hip and tracing circles with his palm.

The heat grows and grows between them.

"Carly," he murmurs, not wanting anything other than her.

She lets out a breathy moan as his mouth slides over her stomach, and it sounds like his name.

The electricity explodes when their gazes lock, making his hands pull her closer and her lips desperately seeking his.

The quiet passion fuzzes their brains and they can't hear or feel or see anything other than each other.


	15. Overdose

_Beep._

He sighed, the constant sound a small comfort. The chair was plastic and hard, making it impossible to sit comfortably for a long time.

He'd been here for such a long time.

The girl on the bed remained still, her dark hair spilled across the pillow. He squeezed her hand for the hundredth time, hoping for any kind of sign that she was awake.

Nothing.

He leaned forward and dropped his forehead onto the mattress, screwing his eyes shut.

"Please wake up," he begged. "Please."

_Beep._

His eyes focused on the ring on her finger, and a tiny, brief smile flickered across his face. It was gone before the next beep rang around the room.

"Please don't leave me," he murmured. "I love you so much."

His eyes filled, and for once he didn't care.

"Carly," Freddie moaned, pressing a kiss to her palm and folding her fingers over it. "Please, _please_..."

His shoulders shook, all his desperate sadness finally being released.

"Why did you try to leave me?"


	16. Please

"Freddie," she tries. "Freddie, please."

"I can't. You know I can't."

"She doesn't treat you right, Freddie. She hurts you, I know she does."

"I'm fine Carly, we're fine!" he hisses, angry now. "Just stay out of it. It isn't anything to do with you."

That hurts.

That really hurts.

As she snaps her phone shut she hopes he doesn't hear the strangled sob that escapes.

A few moments later it beeps.

_I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm just trying to fix it with her. Please forgive me._

But how is it fair that when he says "please" she gives in, but it doesn't work the other way around?

She purses her lips, and then throws her phone into her bag.

It'll be different this time.


	17. Quiet

He was the shy, clever boy with brown eyes and a love of computers that could often come across as unhealthy.

She was the sweet, pretty, kind girl with a big heart and a value of life that drew people to her.

They were quietly beautiful, talented, _special_.

When they started holding hands under tables and sharing secret smiles it was a silent transition – no one noticed for two weeks.

They were a quiet couple. They didn't kiss in public, or use pet names, or act like love-struck idiots who would coo at and feed each other.

They were quietly besotted, silently smitten.

They whispered to each other over smoothies, bashfully handed each other gifts on birthdays, and had horrible, soundless arguments, suffering without crying or shouting.

It was what made them unique, what made them _CarlyandFreddie_.


	18. Run

There was another explosion behind him, too close for comfort this time. He swore and ran faster, dodging the debris of the building flying over his head.

He needed to find her.

_Now_.

They'd organised a meeting place, but he'd had to run in the opposite direction in order to escape the blasts from the helicopters above them. He now began a large circle, grimacing at the cries and yells from other civilians.

He was bleeding; his arm had been victim to a sharp piece of metal flung into the air from one of the many explosions. He did not concentrate on it though, searching and running and panicking.

Then he saw her; hair flowing behind her as she sprinted in the direction of a large building.

He yelled her name, and again, and screamed it until she turned and stopped, breathing hard but clearly relieved. He reached her, and she instantly flung her arms around him.

"You're OK," she choked. "You're OK, oh my God, you're OK."

He held her very tightly, knowing they couldn't stand still for very long but needing to know she was unhurt.

"Sam," she whispered, and something twisted in his gut.

"I haven't seen her," he replied, and she was already sobbing.

"She's dead," she cried. "She's dead."

"She might have got out," he said, letting go of her and pulling her by the hand as they started to run again. "She might be OK."

She did not reply; instead she sped up, and he followed her, gripping her fingers and refusing to let go.

_Run._

_Run._


	19. Stay

"Well," Freddie sighs. "That's the last of my stuff, I guess."

She nods and clasps her hands together, rocking on the balls of her feet. He turns to her and offers her a feeble smile, sighing again.

They look at each other for a moment, sadness etched into their faces.

Carly lets out a sob, and he reaches for her.

He's going to leave her.

He's going to go to college halfway across the country and leave her here.

"Carly," he says, kissing the top of his head. "Carly, I can stay."

She shakes her head vigorously. "No, you have to go."

"I can't leave you like this," he murmurs.

"Yes you can."

"I'll call every day."

She whimpers and his heart aches.

"All you have to do is say so and I'll stay," he says, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

There is silence, and then she pulls away a little and kisses him.

Her mouth is wet and slightly salty from her tears, and he knows the burning in his eyes is inevitable too.

"I love you," he whispers, before kissing her again.

"S-stay," she mumbles, gripping his t-shirt as if she'll never let go.

He doesn't respond; he merely kisses her harder.


	20. Take

She steals his clothes.

One morning he gets up and realises one of his hoodies is gone.

She's wearing it at school that day, over a tank top, a skirt and leggings. He sidles up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek as she pushes books into her locker.

"Hi, hoody stealer," he whispers. She smiles and relaxes into him.

Next time she plucks a t-shirt from his drawer right in front of him.

"What are you doing?" he asks, grinning as she comes over and settles on his lap.

"I want to sleep in it," she says matter-of-factly, snuggling into his embrace. It's one of his favourites, but he doesn't mind.

She takes his socks.

His _socks_.

He comes into the iCarly studio to see them on her feet, sticking out from the beanbag as she reads a book. She sees him and smiles.

"Hey," she says, marking her place with a torn piece of paper and getting to her feet.

He smirks at her and raises an eyebrow. She bites her lip, because he looks _very _attractive when he does that.

"What?"

"You stole my socks?"

She grins wickedly, and she's just too beautiful not to kiss.


	21. Usurp

**This is a little AU, guys. Hope you like. :)**

* * *

She was pressed against a wall.

Normally this was rather undesirable, seeing as therefore it was harder to defend herself, but maybe she wasn't particularly discontent today.

Because her assailant was rather attractive, and he was smirking, and she was not uncomfortable in the slightest.

"Hello there, pretty," he murmured, grinning.

She struggled a bit, but not half into it as she easily could.

"Why are you pinning me against a wall?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "I know who you work for, and I really don't like them, and you're _very _beautiful," he finished, dropping his head to her shoulder and pressing his mouth to her collarbone.

She bit back a gasp and writhed against him, but he was much taller and stronger. She felt him smirk, _again_.

"Do you seduce all of your female enemies?" she choked.

"Only the pretty ones," he said, straightening and winking at her.

He chucked her under the chin, dark eyes catching the orange light from the streetlamp, and strode away from her.

Her blood pulsed.


	22. Veritaserum

"Tell me," he's saying, over and over again until she wants to scream.

"I can't," she pleads. "I can't, I can't..."

"_Carly_," he tries then, and his voice is so warm and lovely that she almost gives in. She shakes her head.

"I know," he presses, pulling her hand. "I know you – I – _please,_ Carly, I'm so scared."

She whimpers and clasps her hand over her mouth; she shakes her head again.

"Just tell me you're OK," he breathes, and she chokes, and he tries again.

"Tell me you'll get better," he mumbles, leaning to bump his forehead against hers gently, his eyes big and bright and panicked.

She gazes at him, biting her lip to stop the shuddering breaths that escape from her. His eyes crease, salt water leaking from the corners.

"Then lie to me," he demands roughly.

"I'm sorry," she answers softly, and he cries.


	23. Willing

He's always there.

She hurts her ankle – he slips an arm round her shoulders and helps her hobble along.

She cries – he holds her.

She doesn't understand science – he forgets the homework he needs to finish for the next day and happily tutors her.

He will stand in the rain and wait for her.

He will tell her she's beautiful if she pouts at her mirror.

He's willing to do anything she asks, even if at night he lies in bed and nurses a pang in his heart, wondering why she never does the same for him.


	24. X

X.

A strange letter, extremely peculiar.

Often used in algebra, and the beginning of few words.

It also tagged along on the end of emails, texts, letters.

Freddie knew Carly's style.

Her name, a smiley face, and then an X, a kiss, marked at the end of her message.

He felt special whenever she texted him with two kisses, or emailed him with three, or wrote a doting thank-you letter in response to a Christmas or birthday present that ended with a long line of pink crosses.

But one day the kisses disappeared.

He fretted that he'd upset her, made her mad, and spent a whole two hours wondering where he could have gone wrong.

Eventually he gave up, and rushed out of his apartment, stopping with a skid at her door. He knocked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

She opened the door and smiled, going a little pink.

"Hi, Freddie," she said quietly.

"Have I upset you?" he blurted.

She blinked. "What?"

"The kisses," he said, his voice going a little high. "They're gone."

He thrust his phone into her face so that she could read her latest text message to him. She gazed at it, and then she smiled.

"Oh, _Freddie_," she said, pushing his phone away. She tugged on his other hand, bringing him closer. "I'm not mad at you."

"But why-"

"They're gone because I thought the kisses were better," she paused, standing on her tip-toes so she was eye-level with him. "somewhere else."

He barely had time to finally understand her before her mouth collided very softly with his.


	25. Yes

She can't remember when her answer stopped being no.

Maybe it was the dance, when they'd both had an awful night and he offered her the thing she'd wanted most; _a dance, a slow dance with someone who could look into her eyes and smile, who could leave her breathless with their tenderness._

Maybe it was when he held out the bouquet of tulips and asked her if she could love him.

Maybe it's when they're sitting on his couch and the little box falls out of his pocket, and he's blushing and she's staring and he just stammers it out, the thing he's wanted to say for years and years, and she starts to cry, and then she reaches for his hands and nods, and he can't stop kissing her for hours.

All she knows is that as she stands here in a white dress, and Spencer asks her if she's ready, she is certain of her answer.


	26. Zephyr

The trees swayed, their branches effortlessly brushing across each other.

She sighed, her fingers tracing the way the metal chains wove in and out of each other. The swing was hot, but her light, floral dress flowed around her knees.

The breeze ruffled her hair and sent blossom tumbling everywhere. It caught in her dark locks, but she didn't care enough to thread them out.

She was thinking of him; always thinking of him.

She wondered if the words in her mind she was too scared to say would be carried to him by the wind.

She murmured them, closing her eyes and remembering.

* * *

**a/n: just wanted to make sure you all know that this is definitely not the last drabble in the collection. I'll go through the alphabet at least once more. :3**

**thank you all so much for the support and feedback, it means a lot. :) marchgirl, xx**


	27. Air

He leaves for a month, and she finds she never can take one of those deep, deep, breaths.

She goes with Spencer to meet him and his mom at the airport, and when he strolls out from behind the coffee shop in the main entrance, she exhales suddenly, not knowing she was holding anything in.

And when he breathes words and kisses and love across her skin two days later, she knows he's all the oxygen she'll ever need.


	28. Baby

How is she supposed to say this?

They're so young, and he got his acceptance letter to Stanford yesterday. He'll be torn, won't he? (She knows he's the boy who has a future but would give it up for this)

She blurts it out after his joke about Sam's nose, or something (she's not really listening), and his eyes go wide, and he grips her hands even tighter.

But then he kisses her, and his hand slips over her flat (for now) stomach.

"Ours. Our _baby_," he chokes. "A _baby_."

And she nods and cries and smiles, and they were always ready for anything, weren't they?


	29. Chocolate

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, not quite licking the melting chocolate all away.

He swallows, and tries to concentrate on keeping his mouth closed.

They're sharing the chocolate fountain (secretly, of course; if Sam knew she'd never forgive them) and she's licking and biting and moaning and he's going _crazy_.

The strawberries are long gone. He stuffed most of them in his mouth so he wouldn't lean over and-

No.

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and then she twirls her tongue over the spoon.

He's gone.

He lifts the bowl of chocolate and moves it away from them, and then he cups her face with his hands and smashes his mouth against hers. She squeaks, drops the spoon, and grabs his shirt.

She tastes like chocolate. Obviously.


	30. Dinosaur

"Oliver, come here," Carly calls, a small set of pyjamas in her hand. "Oliver? It's bedtime, muppet."

"But I don't _wanna_!" someone whines from behind her, and she turns to see her four-year-old scowling and pouting at the top of the stairs.

"Sweetpea," she starts, but then her husband suddenly appears behind Oliver and scoops him up. Oliver shrieks and looks up at his father with a giggle.

"Freddie, it's his bedtime," Carly scolds, walking up the stairs.

"I know. I got a new friend for you, squirt, but you only get to meet him if you go to bed," Freddie says solemnly, then tickles Oliver and sends a boyish grin to his wife.

He pulls a fuzzy, extinct reptile from behind his back, and Oliver squeals in delight.

While he's captivated with his new friend, Carly stands on her tip-toes and presses a quick kiss to Freddie's mouth.


	31. End

Everything hurt.

He lay there dejectedly, ignoring the cold dampness of the pillow under his cheek and tracing a pretty face in a photo.

It was half-mutual, the breakup. He'd numbly nodded and agreed, because she said that their relationship was hurting her and he never wanted to hurt her, so he let her go.

He curled up into a ball, the photo crumpled in his hand. He didn't know what he did wrong. He was desperately in love with her; surely that was enough? He tried to make her smile every day, he hugged her and held her hand, he made her laugh. He put _everything_ into what they had together.

He didn't understand.

Maybe she didn't love him anymore. Maybe he'd said something wrong. Maybe they just weren't meant to be.

He buried his nose between his knees and tried to forget.


	32. Fast

It's always quick with her.

Fall fast, fall _hard_, one or two dates, make out on her couch, and then he dumps her and it's done.

Maybe it says something about her and Freddie because it's months before he asks her out, _four _dates before he finally (_finally, _God's sake) kisses her on the mouth, and almost a year before they're crashing into the lamp on his bedside table and it's weird that neither of them care or stop kissing.

Like. She loves him. He's cute, and sweet, and kind, and funny, and so smart she ditched her senior science mentor ages ago. And he's probably the best boyfriend in the world. And he's, like, totally hot now and she _knows _Tasha Fields is plotting against her, or something.

But he wants to take it all slow.

She doesn't understand it until one night when they're lying on the roof of their building, wrapped up in hundreds of blankets, and she's never felt this peaceful before. The stars are like tiny diamonds in the black sheet of the sky above them.

"Carly," he says, rolling over a little and nuzzling her head with his nose. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah," she says, squeezing his hand and stretching her neck awkwardly to look up at him. "But I love you more."

He wrinkles his nose. "God, please don't tell me we're turning into one of those sickeningly cheesy couples."

She laughs, and his arms suddenly hug her tight.

"But seriously," he mumbles, forehead pressed to hers. "I love you. And I know you're all sexually frustrated-"

"I am _not_!"

"Sure, baby," he grins, and _oh_, he's cute. "But this is really special, you know? Us."

And she gets it. She knows he's not one of her week-long sort-of boyfriends that come and go; he's Freddie, he's her best friend, and this is different, this is _real_.

"Yeah," she whispers, and she kisses his mouth. "I know."

He holds her close, and the stars shine even brighter.


	33. Granted

Carly Shay isn't the cleverest girl in the world.

She aspires for her A pluses, working hard and doing all her homework, and she doesn't really mind as much as she used to because it's her routine now; get home, do homework, work on iCarly, sleep.

And so when Freddie is all smiles and flushed cheeks when he tugs his new girlfriend into her apartment, it all slams into her. This girl; she's beautiful and a freaking genius, apparently, and she wants to cry and then puke and then cry some more when she sees the way Freddie looks at her (_because he always used to look at Carly like that_).

And maybe she should have seen this coming, maybe she should have sat down and thought about it, maybe she should have realised her feelings before he fell out of love with her.

That night she curls up next to her bed, breathing deeply into her arms. A pen lies forgotten next to her, and there is a crumpled piece of paper crushed into her hand.

If you look at it from the right angle you might be able to see the words _please be mine again_.


	34. Haven

Freddie fumbled for his keys, frowning and grumbling as he searched in his bag. At last there was a jangle and a flash of silver, and he spotted the panda-bear keyring Carly had got him one time. He tugged on the plastic animal and pulled the keys free.

Unlocking the door, he noticed Carly's work blazer slung over a chair, and he could hear her humming in the kitchen. Smiling to himself, he quietly closed the door and deposited his work bag on the sofa, trying not to make any noise. He padded into their rather stylish kitchen and snuck up behind her.

"How was work?" she suddenly asked brightly, spinning round and making him jump. "I heard you unlock the door."

"Good God, woman, you scared me," he said, reaching for her. She slid into his embrace. "It was tiring. My boss is an asshole."

"Oh, honey," she mumbled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "I thought you did really well on that report last week."

"Yeah, that's why he was mad," he grinned and kissed her forehead. "How about you?"

"Boring," she replied, nestling back into his chest. "My partner is such a bitch, though. She was probably the most interesting part of my day."

He hugged her close, feeling the safest and most loved in her arms.

"How are _you_, though? How are my babies?" he murmured, hand coming to rest on her slightly swelled stomach.

She smiled. "We're fine," she answered, and they stood like that in each others' arms for a long moment.

* * *

**hey guys! just wanted to say a huge thank you for the incredible response to this little (or not so little, now) collection. C: seeing as I'm really not sure what word prompt for 'I' I'll use, maybe you could give me some suggestions? thank you so much, again, you all make me a very happy fic writer. lots of love, marchgirl. :3**


	35. Ice Cream

She drags him to the parlour after school, babbling something about strawberry sprinkles and chocolate flakes.

He rolls his eyes but grins, more focused on how pretty she is when she's happy.

They snuggle into a couch at the back, sharing a tub of strawberry ice cream. She feeds him, giggling when she "accidentally" smears some on his nose, and they've never been this cheesy before but he doesn't care at all. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her smile is just so beautiful.

She's licking absentmindedly at the spoon with the last melted dregs when he spots a dot of their snack on her top lip. She looks adorable, but it makes him want to kiss her desperately.

"Hey," he murmurs, and she looks up at him (eyes wide, spoon in mouth). "You got a little ice cream."

"Oh, where?" she says, going to wipe it away, but he grabs her hand.

"Let me," he says quietly, and she nods towards the napkin on the table in front of them. He stifles a laugh and swoops in. She lets out a tiny squeak beneath his mouth, which turns into a moan when his tongue sweeps over her lip.

He pulls away, looking very pleased with himself, and she pouts.

"There, all clean now," he teases, tapping her on the nose.

"Kiss me properly, you jerk," she whines, and he smirks at her, but complies.


	36. Justify

"You can't seriously believe that."

He's looking at her like she just took one of his favourite cameras and smashed it into a hundred tiny little pieces on purpose.

"You think," he says, and his voice is shaking (_from anger or pain; she doesn't know_). "That I'd be unfaithful to you?"

"You get back from work at midnight," she hisses, fists clenched over her stomach. "_Every night_."

His eyes close and to her horror something wet escapes from them.

"I worked later," he rasps, turning away from her. "So I could earn more. So I could buy you a ring."

_Oh God._

"No," she gasps, hands clutching at her face. "I – I'm such a – _Freddie._"

"I guess," he says calmly, but his chest is hitching. "You won't want to – to say yes."

"Freddie," she reaches for his hand. "I'm yours, don't you know that?"

He spins around to face her, cheeks wet, and then she's in his arms.


	37. Keys

"Carly?"

"Yeah?" She looked up at him. He seemed to be rather nervous.

"Well, you know we've been together for a while, and we're nineteen, and I want to move out of my mom's apartment?"

She nodded and tilted her head to the side a little. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, um, would you...maybe...want to – you know – move in with me?"

His hopeful expression made her smile and she hugged him.

"Of course," she replied softly, closing her eyes. "I'd move in right now."

He grinned and kissed her. She sensed something warm and metallic slip through his hand into hers, and she clasped them tightly in her fist.


	38. Loose

She sways her hips, eyes closed and head thrown back as the music pulses through her apartment.

He watches from the counter, nursing a drink and an uncomfortable tightening in his jeans.

She had never been this curvy but it was like she suddenly sprouted a soft, swelling bust and hips that flowed from her waist to the tops of her deliciously creamy thighs.

His mouth waters as she performs a particularly sensual move, and he gulps some more beer down. Maybe then if he loses control, he can blame the alcohol.

Her hands are twisted in her sweaty hair, luscious rosy lips mouthing the lyrics, and _oh dear Lord_ he's never chugged beer this fast before.

Soon his vision is blurred but she's still there, moving slowly in his direct line of vision. He stumbles over to her, hands reaching greedily, and they dance.

His hips are moving too, slowly, and she's wrapped around him and he _wants_ her, like he's never wanted anyone before. She breathes shallowly in his ear and then their hips grind together.

"There," she whispers, her hot breath sending shudders over his skin. "You just needed to loosen up."

He smirks against her collarbone, and two minutes later she drags him to her bedroom, his kisses ghosting on her sweaty neck.


	39. Missing

A flicker of dark hair. A soft laugh. A bright smile.

Anything can send his heart lurching and his stomach in great waves of nausea. He finds another poster, sopping wet and wrinkled under crushed leaves; his shoe brushes away the debris and he stares at her smiling photo.

One month today. It hurts the same.

He was the last one to see her – to shout and scream at her, to call her names, to-

He drops onto the wall of the house in front of him, hands locked, straining, against the hot burning in his eyes.

He's shed enough tears for her (_behind curtains and doors and countless disappointing phone calls)_.

"Where did you go?" he says thickly, eyes cast to the sky.

"I'm here."

He almost falls over in his haste to turn around, and _theresheis_ and _ohmygodImissedyou_ and _youarethemostbeautifulthingI'veeverseen-_

Her clothes are dirty and she looks so tired.

"C-Carly?" he breathes. She shuffles from her hiding place, hoodie sleeves tugged over her palms and fumbling between her fingers. He moves slowly towards her (_so she won't run away f r o m h i m again_)

She lets out a choked sob and sprints into his arms. He catches her and _ohdearlord _she's just as good to hold as always and her hips meet his in the same way and her arms still fasten tightly around his waist.

"It's okay," he's muttering, hands sliding over her back to warm her up a little. "You're okay, you're safe, everything's okay."

(_it's not just her who needs to be sure)_


	40. Nowhere

Spencer's apartment is too large and colourful, Sam's too messy, Freddie's (mom's) too neat. She tries accepting proposals of moving in from boyfriends but they generally turn out to be jerks and she's back to square one – nowhere to stay – to _want_ to stay.

Sam's mom moves to Vegas and Sam refuses to give up her cooking classes at Ridgeway University, but she stays in the dorm and apparently her roommate has already requested another room.

Freddie gets a little apartment two miles from Bushwell; a kitchen/dining room/living room with a tiny bedroom and a cramped bathroom, and he complains about the neighbours and the dripping shower all the time whenever he calls her (normally around midnight but she doesn't care) but she knows he loves it.

He gets promoted two weeks after moving in and his pay is doubled. They all get drunk at Spencer's to celebrate and Carly wakes up against Freddie's bare chest and his shirt fisted in her palms. She's decent, at least. And he _definitely_ is.

He moves out of his little loft eventually and gets a house – two bedrooms, nothing huge. But even Sam gapes and Spencer falls into the creaky cellar door (that's how they find the cellar) and Carly stays as close as possible because she's realised lately that Freddie smells pretty damn good. She offers to stay with him that night because she knows he still gets a little homesick.

They end up twisted and tangled around each other, the champagne bottle and the piles of boxes long forgotten.


	41. Ordinary

She is an ordinary height and she's got an ordinary face and her grades are so ordinary sometimes she wants to scream. Her life is actually very ordinary (except for Friday nights when she feels like she's stepped into another person's body) in general.

But there's a boy across the hall who thinks she's extraordinarily beautiful, and extraordinarily kind, and so special that he knows he'll never feel this way about anybody else. His Fridays are his favourite days of the week because she lets _go_ and he lives for that beaming smile.

When _he_ kisses _her_ for the first time they're picking the font of a new title graphic for their Messin' With Lewbert segment and their legs are pressed together (despite the space they could be using) and their heads are touching.

"Helvetica?" She shakes her head.

"How about," she taps his hands away from the mousepad. "Georgia. Better?"

"Beautiful," he replies.

He's not looking at the screen.

She turns her head and catches his gaze. Their noses are centimetres apart. She inhales sharply but softly, her eyes shining.

He leans in and it's the easiest, most ordinary thing in the world.


	42. Precious

The thing about Carly and Freddie is that their strength limits are very similar. They aren't an opposites attract couple – they're both kind, both likely to freak out at small things, they both need hugs every day and the reassurance that somebody loves them.

So there's always that fear – that twinge of worry during a disagreement – that anything could cause them to break apart, to shatter.

This feels close.

"Why did you kiss him?" He's shaking, voice thick and broken.

"I," she fumbles for an answer, focused only on him and the look on his face. "I –Freddie, it didn't mean _anything_."

"Why would you do it then? If you didn't mean it?" He's so vulnerable all of a sudden and she craves to cradle him in her arms.

"I don't know," she says quietly, lamely. "Freddie, I'm sorry, I love you so much-"

He lets out this soft howl and collapses to his knees, dry sobs wracking his frame. She rushes over and they struggle for a few moments as he tries to wrench himself away from her before giving in.

"D-don't leave me," he moans into her neck, arms tight around her waist. "Please."

"I won't, I won't," she repeats, pressing her mouth to the top of his head. "I love you. Always."

Something this precious couldn't not mean forever.


	43. Quit

When Freddie quits again (_for real_, he says. _I mean it_) Carly's hands shake and her legs feel wobbly and she knows that it was Sam, being mean when one of his effects turned out kind of crappy.

But she didn't defend him. She stood there with her mouth open and her arms limp at her sides, her fingers itching to clamp over her best friend's mouth.

She finds herself at his door, trying to reach out and touch her fists to his door while her stomach rumbles (she couldn't eat her dinner). Heat builds behind her eyes, pressing and pressing until something wet streaks down her cheek (_why are you crying_, she asks herself. _What's wrong?_). Her chest aches.

"Freddie?" she croaks, not bothering with knocking. "Freddie, I'm s-sorry."

Another tear. Footsteps. The creak of his door.

"Carly?" His door shuts. "Hey, don't cry, shh."

He hugs her, hands stroking her back as her tears drip slowly. She doesn't miss his puzzled face.

"I'm sorry," her chest hitches. "I should have said something – I should've –"

He squeezes her gently. "I was bluffing, Carly," he rests his chin on her shoulder. "So maybe Sam would see a limit to her insults before she crosses the line."

She pulls back abruptly, staring at him open-mouthed for a second before punching his chest as hard as she can (which isn't very hard but he pretends she hurt him).

* * *

**a/n: Oh, hi. my excuse this time is the same - work. My GCSEs are in about three weeks and I'm about halfway through a oneshot as a birthday present for my lovely friend Pip, but after that I'm afraid it'll be late June before you'll see any more fic from me. However if I can get these drabbles out in half an hour at a time you'll probably get updates on this little collection fairly often.**

**I am terrible, I know. Ah, life. It calls to me, you know. ;D reviews are love. :3**


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